who's where weddings
ok, i am one to go up 11 000 feet in a small aircraft knowing full well that the phobia i have of flying is not going to be cured by jumping from that hight but i'll do it any way...
this weekend i did it to myself again - i attended another wedding. this one was unique it was on water and we all sailed to pick up the bride rather than her coming to us down an isle. it was intimate and different and i had a good feeling from the dread that was automatically initially present but then it returned at the seating plan...
the only other person that i knew - this situation being dito for him - was placed at another table, 10 tables a part... my partner and i arrived at unlucky number 13 to be seated a part, in fact separated by who was to become the most amusing and surreal part of the weekend. we had alighted from the boat, from the vows on the water to a beautiful lunch amid tree tops only to find ourselves seated at the table of bulgari chanel savil row this and heaps of bling, old bling!
we were sat at the last colonial outpost, the type that fly in their servants from malawi and then bleat the upliftment speech followed by the couldn't leave here dear, not for a second could i be without the servants, how would you cope? oh you couldn't? could you? what makea bed, cook, how brave dear....
however bemused i felt in the beginning, the slight pang of envy at hearing about the last trip taken with the taj framed by the hotel window followed by a siesta to seville, or thinking where did i fuck up in the road to inheriting a zillion, i had to cringe at the total superiority with which the words were uttered, the demeaning tone that was taken to an idea of a person that a seconds glance had cast in her mind. i know full well that one day she will sit at one of her lunches and hear our names and shriek that she knows us whilst oozing confidence that she bestowed wisdom on our then misguided commercial souls...
its strange how things are dealt, another two would have dived right in competing and jostling their peacocks yet we sat, swallowed and stewed allowing the dominance to wash off the ducks back and left at the sight of the first ferry with our 10 tables a part companion wishing that there had been some dancing.
this weekend i did it to myself again - i attended another wedding. this one was unique it was on water and we all sailed to pick up the bride rather than her coming to us down an isle. it was intimate and different and i had a good feeling from the dread that was automatically initially present but then it returned at the seating plan...
the only other person that i knew - this situation being dito for him - was placed at another table, 10 tables a part... my partner and i arrived at unlucky number 13 to be seated a part, in fact separated by who was to become the most amusing and surreal part of the weekend. we had alighted from the boat, from the vows on the water to a beautiful lunch amid tree tops only to find ourselves seated at the table of bulgari chanel savil row this and heaps of bling, old bling!
we were sat at the last colonial outpost, the type that fly in their servants from malawi and then bleat the upliftment speech followed by the couldn't leave here dear, not for a second could i be without the servants, how would you cope? oh you couldn't? could you? what makea bed, cook, how brave dear....
however bemused i felt in the beginning, the slight pang of envy at hearing about the last trip taken with the taj framed by the hotel window followed by a siesta to seville, or thinking where did i fuck up in the road to inheriting a zillion, i had to cringe at the total superiority with which the words were uttered, the demeaning tone that was taken to an idea of a person that a seconds glance had cast in her mind. i know full well that one day she will sit at one of her lunches and hear our names and shriek that she knows us whilst oozing confidence that she bestowed wisdom on our then misguided commercial souls...
its strange how things are dealt, another two would have dived right in competing and jostling their peacocks yet we sat, swallowed and stewed allowing the dominance to wash off the ducks back and left at the sight of the first ferry with our 10 tables a part companion wishing that there had been some dancing.
Labels: colonialists, holidays, unions, weddings
posted by TM at 10:36 pm
2 Comments:
ninest123 16.02
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